


I Hear a Voice on the Wind

by phyncke



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M, Rescue of Maedhros, Thangorodrim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-17
Updated: 2013-08-17
Packaged: 2017-12-23 20:06:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/930573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phyncke/pseuds/phyncke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fingon rescues Maedhros from captivity on Thangorodrim and their love is rekindled.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Hear a Voice on the Wind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [havisham](https://archiveofourown.org/users/havisham/gifts).



Title: I Hear a Voice on the Wind  
Author: phyncke  
Beta: Khylea   
For: Sultry in September 2013  
Characters: Maedros/Fingon, Fingolfin (mentioned)  
Disclaimer: I do not own these characters, they are the property of JRR Tolkien and his estate. I have borrowed them for my own amusement and for yours I hope.  
Summary: Fingon rescues Maedhros from captivity on Thangorodrim and their love is rekindled. 

 

Preface - I hear a voice on the wind…

I hear a voice on the wind singing a song so familiar, a tune I knew when I was young. At first I think it is some trick, the wind whistling on the rock or Morgoth come to vex me in my torment. How would he know that very song from my youth and sing with a voice I loved so well? The voice of my cousin, heart of my heart. 

Tears blur my eyes and I sing the words out loud, hoping that the wind will carry my words far enough for the one below to hear. I rasp out the verse, as it has been some days since the last rain. I am parched and so try to wet my chafed lips with my tongue. 

Manwë, lord of the air, wind and birds, sends rain quite frequently and food with the winged creatures who fly over Thangorodrim I am not utterly forsaken here. The Vala has cleverly sustained me through the years of my captivity, keeping my hope alive that this would end someday. 

“Maitimo, Maitimo, it is I, Findekáno. I cannot reach you!”

Fingon shouts from his foothold. 

“Cousin, if you love me, notch your bow and end my torment. I beg of you, let my suffering cease!”

It is silent below and I know that Fingon is thinking on it with a heavy heart. His intent is to rescue me I know, but the odds of that are not in his favor. I cannot see him but he must be able to see me; see the desperate state I am in. I am near naked against the rock wall and fastened with a steel shackle on my right wrist so cruelly made.. 

“Oh King to whom all the birds are dear, speed now this feathered shaft, and recall now the Noldor in their need!” 1

I expect the arrow to pierce my heart for Káno is a good shot. He would not miss and make me suffer in agony. But nothing comes, no dart to end my life. A moment later I am face to face with a great bird, the eagle of legend. Thorondor has come to help Fingon scale the wall. I can see the compassion in his eyes and the wisdom in his countenance. 

I feel Fingon’s hand caress my chin and touch my dirty, tangled hair. Then he tries to cleave the shackle and free my right hand. 

“It is no use, Fingon. Kill me and leave me here.” I beg him now. 

“No.”

He tries pounding and leveraging his knife on the hinge but to no avail. There is some dark magic at work on it; nothing will allow it to open. He pulls with all his strength to no avail. I am cursed. I feel the air with the beating of Thorondor’s wings and begin to cry. 

“You can end my torment. It would be your last gift to me.”

“I will not do this until all hope is lost. There is one thing I can do though you may hate me for it. It will cause you pain but I can free you from this wall. Do you trust me, cousin?”

“Do what you must.” 

He unsheathes his knife yet again and lays the blade just above my imprisoned wrist. I know what he will do. He has always been clever. I will lose my hand but I will have my life. I feel the pain as he cuts my flesh more searing than the constant pain of my captivity. I do not look but I feel the blood dripping down my arm. The pain recedes as the wound deepens to the bone. He saws the bone, applying ample force and soon he is able to lift me away. He removes his outer tunic to wrap around my arm. 

We fly up and away on the back of the great eagle and I am free. Free as I never thought I would be again. 

 

Part One – And now, YOU are dead! 

 

The beauty of the elvish spirit is that it can heal from even the most dire of wounds. Although the time of my captivity left a darkness on my feä, my body recovers with time and care. At first I am barely able to lift my head. Nurtured by the healers and caregivers in Mithrim under the watchful lead of my cousin Findekáno, I recover. He is ever at my side. I know that he never leaves or mayhap he does go to have a bath or grab a change of clothes. But mostly he is there every time I need him or call out in my sleep. He holds me when the dreams turn to that monster Morgoth, and other ghoulish creatures that beset me on Thangorodrim. 

He sings and plays his harp or just tells tales from his journeys. Sometimes I speak of what had happened to me and other times we sit in companionable silence. He holds my hand fast as though he is afraid to let me go. 

Before too long, I am able to walk and so we promenade around Mithrim Castle. Having been captive for so long, the body forgets these things. I must learn how to do this all over again; one foot in front of the other and so forth. I practice and grow stronger and eventually we fashion a cover for my stump made of leather and metal. It is well crafted and as attractive as such a thing can be. 

Much ado is made when I can finally eat solid food. They are slow to give me thus but finally I go from soup to mash to breads and then, Eru preserve me to meats. I think Fingon is conservative but he is just looking out for my well-being. He does not want me to get ill, so he says. I had been without food for the most part and it would be a shock to my system. That first bite of roast venison and potato is divine! 

From this point, I get stronger and stronger making leaps and bounds. I begin working with the wooden practice swords, learning how to wield the blade with my left hand. I fashion a special battle cover for my right arm with knives embedded in the leather. I see no reason why that side should be so vulnerable. I will face dark creatures and can fight from both sides, if I so choose. 

Various elves volunteer to be my sparring partner – Káno, Fingolfin and other palace guards who are patient with me as I learn to fight with my left arm. Fingon is relentless as he shouts, 

“And now, you are dead!” His sword pointing to my neck. 

I cringe at the worthless skills I display at first but day by day, week by week, I improve until I can repel any and all attackers one and two at a time. I stand over Fingon with my blade at his throat and gloat. 

“And now, YOU are dead.”

We laugh as I give him a hand up. 

 

Part Two – To feast my eyes on his comely form…

I am not prepared for the awakening of my desire as I lay beside my cousin watching the firelight play in his dark tresses. His skin is so smooth yet pale, unblemished and perfect in the flickering light. I run a finger along his cheek and he lets out a soft sigh. 

I thought such feelings gone forever, killed by the horrific experience of Thangorodrim. How could I want Fingon, to touch him and love him after having been ruthlessly tortured for years by Morgoth? But here I am and Káno is so close and warm. I pull back the coverlet to feast my eyes on his comely form, exposing his torso and waist to the warm air in the chamber. 

I am on my right side leaving my left hand free to roam and explore. I find myself thinking how much nicer it would be to have two hands. Moments like this really need both, one to caress and one to pinch. I will just have to make do but at least I am alive. Thanks be to Fingon and his cleverness. Had it been up to me, I would be dead right now. 

I work my way lower, grazing my fingertips over a nipple. Káno likes that and he stretches, moving towards me. Is that a moan? I think it is. I enjoy the sound of his pleasure and knowing that he likes my touch. It has been years since I touched one thusly. I feel the tell tale tightening in my groin. 

I reach down to feel his muscular stomach, flattening my palm over the heated skin there. A groan, I hear a groan. This is all the better. Sliding my hand under the quilt, beneath the waistband of his sleeping pants, I tease my fingers around his genitals. I can feel his hardness, confirming his response to my attentions. I grab his cock at the root and stroke him a few times. 

This draws Fingon out of the land of dreams and he is fully awake. 

“Russa, what are you doing?”

“Do you really have to ask what I am doing? Can you not feel it?” I laugh softly at him and he writhes on the bed, evidencing his passion. I kiss his neck nuzzling his sable dark hair, delighting in his fresh soapy smell, like sandalwood. He had bathed before retiring. I want to lick and bite him, feeling possessive all of a sudden. I have ever felt this way about Findekáno from times gone by. When he got attention from maids in the ballrooms at Tirion, I could not help but smolder with jealousy though I knew he was not truly interested and just played with them, flirting. All for show to placate his parents. Then we would wrestle in private. 

I move between his legs beneath the linens continuing my attentions to his phallus. I add my mouth now and begin to lick him, lightly at first as though to tease and then with more vigor. I love how Fingon tastes, the musk and sex of it. He brings out all of my lust and I begin to swallow him down my throat, pressing my lips on his column. I hold his hips to the mattress, using my left hand and my stump. He wants to thrust but I want him still so I can have my way. I want to make him spend in my mouth, to taste his essence and to feel his release. 

My tongue works around as I pump up and down. Soon I hear the lustful shout of his passion as he finds his joy. I taste his salty discharge and my throat works as I swallow him down not spilling one precious drop. 

We rest for some time, listening to the sighs and sounds of our breathing and the crackle of the fire. Later, we make love long into the night, enjoying the full measure of our bodies together. 

Part Three - Nolofinwë is a fair and just elf…

In the coming days, I meet with Lord Fingolfin and through a series of discussions and meetings transfer the power of the High King’s throne to him. It seemed only fitting that he should lead the Noldor in Middle Earth as the eldest of our family here. My brothers will not be happy, I am sure, but the decision is mine and I will stand by it. We have our oath to consider, the recovery of the gems as paramount to our cause. Nolofinwë is a fair and just elf and will lead our people through these dark and desperate times. 

I linger for some months before sending for my brothers. I am loathe to leave Fingon who holds my love and heart in his. He teaches me to ride with the use of only one hand. That is very different. Eventually, I will learn to train my horse to respond to the press of my legs only so that I have the use of my hand in battle. Horses are sensitive, intelligent creatures and the Mearas more so. 

 

Epilogue - I know that my oath will be my ruin…

Eventually the time comes for me to leave and I do so with a heavy spirit. I know that my oath will be my ruin. I will do deeds in the name of my father that will cause my own ruination and despair, even my death after my love is gone.

I hear a voice on the wind and I imagine it is my love come to find me and take me home to a place where we can be together. We will live free where no trouble shall come to pass. May I meet my Fingon in the ever after, in the bodiless halls where we can be together forevermore. This is my wish, to my dying day. May life be short indeed. 

 

 

1 – quoted Chapter 13, The Silmarillion  
Káno – short for Findekáno, Quenya for Fingon  
Russa – short for Russandol, meaning copper top.


End file.
